


kings of old

by pyrality



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Drabble, M/M, warm up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6175294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrality/pseuds/pyrality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>It's— bewildering to talk to Daryun like this again after so many years, to suddenly be faced again with the man's straightforward honesty, something that has always made his breath hitch in fondness.</p>
  <p>"I missed you," tumbles out of Daryun's mouth next, and he looks away, covers his mouth as though he's been caught speaking illicitly.</p>
  <p>"Do tell me more." It's meant to be coy more than anything, but Narsus presses his feet to the ground, toes curled against the rug with his heart a little quick in his chest. "To make up for lost years."</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	kings of old

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this is short but;;;; i'm trying to warm up after not having written for awhile

"Narsus," Daryun says, and it sounds good the way it rolls off his tongue, warm with fondness beneath the sharpness of it.

"Are you going to reprimand me?" Narsus asks, easy, whimsical, and he presses the tips of his fingers atop Daryun's hand on the table. He smiles at the way the other man's fingers twitch beneath him, and the embarrassed furrow of his eyebrows. "Well?"

Daryun glares at him, somewhat half-hearted. "You know I can't justifiably be angry at you."

"Then why such a scary face?" Narsus giggles, leaning his chin into the palm of his free hand. He withdraws his other hand from Daryun, smiling at the way the other twitches again, like he wants to reach back out. "You're going to give yourself wrinkles before you're forty. You're quite the charming stag back at home."

Daryun blushes, a bare flush beneath his tan skin, but red at the tips of his ears. It's so easy to tease like this; see how the other squirms at just a few coy words.

"There's no one else."

Narsus pauses, feels his breath hitch. Daryun looks at him, brow furrowed again in embarrassment, gaze intent. "There is only you," he says, quiet, fierce.

"How romantic," Narsus manages, but he's aware of the slight warmth rising to his face. It's— bewildering to talk to Daryun like this again after so many years, to suddenly be faced again with the man's straightforward honesty, something that has always made his breath hitch in fondness.

"I missed you," tumbles out of Daryun's mouth next, and he looks away, covers his mouth as though he's been caught speaking illicitly.

"Do tell me more." It's meant to be coy more than anything, but Narsus presses his feet to the ground, toes curled against the rug with his heart a little quick in his chest. "To make up for lost years."

Daryun stays quiet for a long time, motionless other than occasional bounce of nervous energy in his legs. "It was," he pauses, struggles for words, "It was difficult to deal with His Highness after you left. You were the voice of reason I always trusted." Another pause, voice a little quiet and throaty when he looks down at the table and says, "Your exile was undeserved." 

"It wasn't your fault, nor could you have done anything about it." He leans his chin into the palm of his hand, thoughtful. "Andragoras was never quite ready to rule a kingdom," he pauses, looks Daryun in the eye when he speaks next, "It appears his son is different though. I have high hopes for Prince Arslan."

As expected, Daryun puffs up like a proud father, a smile coming to his lips as he folds his arms across his chest. "He is loyal and kind; a king that will help heal Pars after Andragoras."

"He is, perhaps, too kind," Narsus says next, with a hum in the back of his throat, "We must remain vigilant in his stead."

Daryun scoffs, and Narsus quirks an eyebrow at him, confused. "What is it?"

"I can't believe he won you over by telling you he would make you the Court Painter," Daryun replies, but he's smiling, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, "You would be swayed so easily at that kind of praise." A pause, a breath, and Daryun's expression is earnest, “As ridiculous as it is, I am glad you agreed to come with us."

"With us?" Narsus hums, quiet, "Or with _you_?" 

"With me," Daryun admits easily, honest, the skin of his cheeks just barely flushed. 

"You're something else," Narsus murmurs, pressing his toes to Daryun's feet beneath the table. "What a coy mouth; surely you've charmed half of Pars' population with that. Lord Vahriz was always telling me he wished I could return soon so that you might stop being inundated with marriage requests and love letters."

"Stop teasing," Daryun grouses, flustered, pulling his legs away from Narsus' feet and standing up from the table. "We should get to sleep. It's late."

"We should catch up," Narsus says softly, "when we have more time." 

A pause and then, "I would like that too," Daryun answers, a small smile on his lips.


End file.
